Bah, i hate my poems. But my friend wants me to read this at an open mic coming up at a poetry competition, and want your guys' feedback on it. Be brutal, tell me exactly what you think i should change about it, what you don't like, etc.
And just so you know, this poem was NOT written about me. It was written about my best friend who was cutting herself. She didn't see what was wrong with it, and I did, and we got in to a very big fight about it. So I wrote this poem, she saw it, and everything was better....the end. Anyways, enough of my babblin rhetoric, here's the poem:
SuicideI haven't been here in a while;
Your place of being.
The setting has changed
Please forgive me
For going away.
But you need to realize
That I have my own demons to battle
And my world isn't covered in roses
Like it may seem.
It looks different,
From when I last visited.
I noticed you've redecorated.
I wonder what happened to the last roses
You left hanging over the doorway.
I notice your window is painted black.
Or could it be the dirt you allowed to accumulate
Not bothering to clean it off?
Whatever it may be
I know it's clouded the way to your heart.
Palpable would be the word
To describe the aura.
A negative cynical outlook
Almost looks me in the face.
"You are just another non-understanding oversympathetic passerby," It says as I move closer.
I notice the knife
Gleaming on the counter.
Freshly sharpend
I know what it is there for.
I start to talk to you,
But it's like you do not here me.
It's like you don't want to here me.
Aggrivated I shout at you.
"CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE BECOME!!! DON'T YOU SEE?
"
I wait for you to say something.
Nothing.
Just an empty stare,
And the knife in your hand.
